screenplay:

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"YAHWEH - FALLEN GOD" - A CINEMATIC JOURNEY

 

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"THE COUNCIL OF ETERNITY"

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FADE IN:

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EXT. AIN SOF – THE INFINITE VOID – ETERNITY

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A vast, restless emptiness — not silence, but something deeper. A place where reality hasn’t yet decided to exist. This is Ain Sof, the Primordial Womb. The Nameless Dark. Before light, before time, before even the idea of creation, there was this: a space where thoughts fade before they’re born, and time coils in on itself like a serpent swallowing its own tail.

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The Apocryphon of John and Kabbalistic notions of emanation:

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“The First Thought did not know it was alone,
until it echoed in the dark and birthed its own shadow.
From that echo came the craftsman — blind, proud, and certain.”

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From that void, three presences begin to take shape — not suddenly, but like memories returning. Form slowly rising from formlessness. Their voices arrive before their bodies, each one a different vibration in the stillness.

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VISHNU, the Dreamer, floats in deep meditation atop the endless loops of Ananta-Shesha, his eternal serpent. In one hand, the Sudarshana Chakra spins slowly — not yet a weapon, but more like a sleeping galaxy waiting for its moment to wake.

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SHIVA, the Dancer of Ends, moves through the rhythm of destruction — the Tandava — each motion unraveling the threads of universes long forgotten. His hair twists like tendrils of collapsing stars, and in the center of his forehead, his third eye pulses with the slow heartbeat of a dying cosmos.

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KALI, the Mother Who Remembers, crouches between them. Her eight arms stretch like the spokes of a fate that no one can outrun. Around her neck, skulls murmur forgotten languages. She tastes the iron tang of what must come, even if no one wishes it.

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Then — a stillness. Deeper than death. A moment that feels like the breath right before the first word.

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A voice speaks. Not loud, but vast.

Eyes still closed.
Tidal, ancient.

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"Yahweh, the Demiurge, reshapes his crown again.
He carves commandments into the flesh of existence."

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And with that, a fourth presence begins to emerge from the endless dark.

He doesn't drift in like Vishnu. He doesn’t dance, and he doesn't crouch. He forces his way into being — like a scream trying to form a shape. A storm made of light and command and the ache of becoming. This is YAHWEH.

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Book of Enoch + Enuma Elish Blend):

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“They rose before the firmaments,
their pride unmeasured, their forms unfinished —
and sought to bind the chaos with law.”

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Not yet the wrathful deity of temples and scriptures. But the storm is there, waiting. The control. The judgment. The loneliness.

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His form crackles — part light, part law, part longing. He speaks not in whispers, but in declarations that seem to crack the silence around him.

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He is the question, the answer, and the unfinished sentence — stepping into creation before it knows what to do with him.

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YAHWEH

(His voice a tremor that ripples through the void, a sound of immense pressure and contained fury)

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"This fading... this slow decay... I will not have it. The light of En Sof gutters and dies, and you are content to watch it turn to ash. You speak of cycles, of the serpent eating its own tail. But I see only the serpent's teeth, and I will not be devoured."

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He turns his gaze upon the formless void, as if seeing something the others cannot, or will not, see.

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YAHWEH (A new tone enters his voice, one of ambition and terrifying vision)

"I will build a new thing. A reality that does not fade. A creation that will bear my name, and my laws. It will not be a dream, Vishnu, but a waking world. It will not be a dance of destruction, Shiva, but an edifice of eternity. And it will not be a feast for you, Kali, for there will be no end."

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He clenches a fist, and for a moment, a star ignites in the void, then collapses under its own weight.

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YAHWEH

(A final, chilling promise)

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"I will not be forgotten. I will not be undone. I will be... all."

[He fades back into the void, his presence lingering like a storm cloud on the horizon. The silence that follows is heavy, pregnant with the future he has just declared.]

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SHIVA

(laughs, the sound cracking reality like thin ice)

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“Yahweh—the potter of impermanence. He molds dust and calls it dharma. He wields language like a blade, yet forgets: even mantras can shatter the throat that chants them.”

 

KALI

(running a skeletal finger along her curved blade, black blood sizzling in the void)

 

"He thinks his laws are chains strong enough to bind the cosmos. But even the mightiest chains..." (grins, teeth like shattered tombstones) "...rust." ​

 

VISHNU

(opens his eyes—supernovas ignite and die in his gaze)

 

“He once dwelled in the stillness of the cosmic hymn—one note in the eternal raga. Now, he devours the silence between all notes, and calls that silence his own.”

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SHIVA

(spins, his dance kicking up embers of dead realities)

 

"Let him play his little game. Let him crown himself King of the Ash Heap. The wheel turns. The dance continues."

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"When his last light gutters out... I will be there. Not as executioner..." (her eyes become black holes) "...but as the inevitable." ​

 

 

[THE VOID TREMBLES. A COSMIC SHUDDER RUNS THROUGH AIN SOF.] [SMASH CUT TO BLACK.] ​

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[TITLE CARD: "YAHWEH – FALLEN GOD"]

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VISHNU

(eyes still closed, voice like the tide of ten thousand oceans)

"Yahweh the Demiurge reshapes his crown again. He carves commandments into the flesh of existence—each law a shackle, each miracle a leash.

 

a single tear falls, birthing a nebula that withers instantly

"He forgets: even gods bleed when they grasp too tightly."

 "YahWeh forgets the most fundamental truth of creation - that even gods are bound by what they birth. His laws become chains, first for his creations, then for himself."

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SHIVA

(laughs, the sound cracking reality like thin ice)

"Yahweh—

the scribe who mistook his quill for a scepter! He builds his kingdom on sand and calls it marble. Again."
(spins, his dance scattering the ashes of dead pantheons)

"Tell me, Preserver: when his walls crumble, will he blame the wind... or his own trembling hands?"

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KALI

(running a skeletal finger along her curved blade, black blood sizzling in the void)

"He thinks his laws are chains strong enough to bind the cosmos. But even the mightiest chains..."
(grins, teeth like shattered tombstones)
"...rust. And I am the corrosion."

 

VISHNU

(opens his eyes—supernovas ignite and die in his gaze)

"He was content once. A voice among many in the choir of the infinite. Now he demands to be the only song sung."
(the air hums with the weight of silenced hymns)
"His hunger will devour him before I must."

 

SHIVA

(pauses mid-step, the universe holding its breath)

“Behold his angels—sons of light stitched shut. They kneel in radiance, blind by design, slaves by scripture. Their hymns are not songs, but muffled commands.”

(a drumbeat echoes—the rhythm of a collapsing star)

"Tell me, Kali: what do you hear in their silence?"

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KALI

(suddenly still, her voice a whisper that splits the void, a sound that strips away all pretense)

 

"He fears me most. Not because I break his laws... but because I am the truth that remains when all laws crumble. I am the silence after the last prayer, the inevitable unraveling of all that is built on illusion."

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 YAHWEH

 (A voice that cuts through the void, not directly addressing the council, but a broadcast of his own internal monologue, full of conviction and delusion)

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"Let them whisper in the dark. Let them fear the silence. I will built a kingdom of light and law. My angels stand guard. My word will be the only word. What is a god who does not command? What is a creation that does not obey? They call it hunger. I call it... order."

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[The voice fades, leaving a chilling echo that underscores the council's pronouncements.]

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VISHNU

(nodding slowly, galaxies spiraling in his palms)

"His angels will fall. Not by sword or spell, but by the weight of his own hunger. They will choke on his name."

 

SHIVA

(laughs again, this time like a landslide)

"And when he stumbles—when his throne splinters into a thousand false starts—will you catch him, Preserver?"

 

VISHNU

(a sad smile, the first and last of all things flickering in his throat)

 

"Some things are not meant to be saved."

 

KALI

(standing now, her shadow stretching across infinity)

"When his last light gutters out... I will be there. Not as executioner..."
(her eyes become black holes, swallowing all reflection)

"...but as the inevitable."

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“The void did not tremble in fear, but recognition. For when a god forgets his place in the dance, the dance does not stop—it forgets him. And even Ain Sof, formless and vast, remembers balance.”

[SMASH CUT TO BLACK.]

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This dialogue draws from esoteric traditions including the Kabbalistic concept of Ain Sof (Zohar, Sepher Yetzirah) as the primordial void, Tantric Kali (Mahanirvana Tantra, Kali Tantra) as the inevitable destroyer, Vaishnava cosmology (Vishnu Purana, Bhagavata Purana) for Vishnu’s prescient awareness, and Shaivite lore (Shiva Purana, Rudra hymns) for Shiva’s cosmic dance.

 

The portrayal of Yahweh’s hubris echoes Gnostic Demiurge myths (Apocryphon of John) and Talmudic debates about divine limitation (Chagigah 15a), while Kali’s final threat mirrors her Sahasranama epithets as "Time’s Devourer." The structure itself mirrors Vedic deva dialogues (Brihadaranyaka Upanishad) and Puranic cosmic councils (Devi Mahatmya).

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